Set Fire To The Rain
by freiheitfuehlen
Summary: Addison and Derek meet again after 5 years apart. What will have changed and is it even still possible to start over? Past and Present. Remember, reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Set Fire To The Rain

**Set Fire To The Rain**

New York, present time

Slowly and carefully, Derek Shepherd traced the outlines of engravings that had been carved into the wooden tables of Margie's Diner on 38th St. His fingers followed the faded lines of promise and faith. How had everything fallen apart with them standing by passively? Or maybe they had not simply stood by, but furthermore they had pushed and pulled with mighty force - drowned the idea of a forever in a gigantic sea of silence.

He brought the glass of Scotch he had ordered to his mouth and let the amber liquid fill his mouth and throat with a comfortable warmness he had been longing for all of today. It was a gray December afternoon. It had been drizzling since dawn.

The bell above the door jingled and his head shot up quickly as though he was expecting someone. Her. But, there, he knew was no chance of her walking into this – their bar.

Unconsciously he had drawn circles on the wood with his left index finger. He stared at his hand so intensely it must have hurt his eyes. But if Derek Shepherd focused hard he could still make out a faded tan line of where once was a wedding band.

Derek let his head fall against the wall behind him, took in a deep breath and closed his eyes in resignation.

Columbia School of Medicine, 1994

"_Kurt Tocholsky once said that when someone gives a speech the audience must remain silent. So, I will use this opportunity or rather abuse it!_

_So bear with me while I am trying to share the wisdom I have gained in those last four years with you, my teachers, fellow students and friends._

_It's over.  
>The fact that I am allowed to stand up here and speak to you about the last four years we have spent together and the forty plus years that are yet come, proves without a doubt that a chapter in the book of our lives has been closed.<em>

_Firstly I want to take this chance to congratulate everyone who has successfully graduated from the Medical School of the University of Columbia and wish all those of you well who will be standing in our places in the years to come._

_Every one of us has collected different memories throughout the years in the corridors of this historic school. And every one of you would share different stories, reminisce over different moments, contemplate different decisions and come to a different conclusion._

_Unfortunately, there is not enough time to let every one of you share just one moment that made a special impression with us today, or so I was told._

_So I'll stand here by proxy reminiscing over the moments that I have treasured and praying that friendships we have formed will last for decades to come. Also I hope that once we leave that the anger, disappointment and frustration we left with our teachers and their insatiable desire for perfection will vanish. Furthermore I hope that we will have learned from them, that from now on we will strive for wisdom, knowledge, grace and discipline._

_We will need to be wise enough to know when a battle we have fought with all we had is not for us to win. _

_We will need to know… so we can save a life in the first place._

_We will need grace when it is on us to save the villain rather than the victim, for it is not our choice who lives or dies._

_Mostly, though, we will need discipline to be wise, to gain knowledge and have grace._

_- Those who fight may lose, but those of us who have never fought have already lost.-_

_A German poet once shared his philosophy of life with us hoping that we would understand._

_I hope that you will take these words with you, wherever you might go and that you will learn to live by them.  
>I want you to be brave when your actions are needed. I want you to speak up when your voice needs to be heard. Mostly I want you to be the extra-ordinary doctors that we have studied so hard for.<em>

_This is the end._

_We have come together to celebrate so I will no longer hold your time captive in my futile attempt to hold onto the past. I always felt honored to walk these halls and therefore I am leaving with a sad smile on my face and the curiosity of an unknown future in my heart. I am looking forward to the challenges that will be awaiting me once I leave this school._

_There is nothing more to say now than my best wishes for every single one of you in the lives that you choose and for the obstacles that may arise._

_Good luck! Farewell!"_

New York, present time

In the end he thought there were too many obstacles, too few courage and not enough mercy.

Derek took a sip from his scotch; let it burn his lips in a need to feel something, anything apart from the helplessness that was beginning to drown him from top to bottom.

He nodded cautiously as if admitting his failure in the mess they had created was still avertable and giving away seemed to only strengthen the guilt he felt.

Or maybe they had lacked the discipline and the faith to look past the anger and disappointment and constant strive for perfection, to realize the kind of love they shared was not found yet it was still a work in progress.

Derek sat in silence contemplating the events of the day, the news he had learned; learned to hate. He emptied the half full glass of liqueur before gesturing to the waitress to bring him another tumbler filled to the brim with oblivion.

Sometimes Derek wondered how his life would have turned out if he had never applied to Columbia, if he had never met Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery. In those few moments regret seemed to plague his restless soul. He remembered the way her hair shone in the spring sunshine, the way her eyes were filled with pride and faith when she stood in front of students, teachers, friends and family voicing her gratitude and her well wishes. She wore a light yellow dress underneath her black robe. Her skin was as pale as it had ever been, her lips took on the sinful red he had come to desire most. On that day she radiated, driven by the urge to leave behind and start with the rest of her life, their life.

Thinking about that happy day in their lives almost broke his heart for a second time in the last twenty-four hours. Derek had understood all of those years ago on the Columbia Campus of Medicine that he wanted to marry his girlfriend for she enabled him to believe, to support and to create. She kept him on course when he seemed to drift away and she needed him to do the same for her. He wondered if they had stood a chance had they only realized earlier that growing up sometimes meant giving up on recent plans and forming new goals together instead of clinging to what once was familiar until the threat you were hanging onto was to hollow to hold your weight anymore.

If only they had talked about what they wanted and needed instead of keeping quiet to avoid confrontation, they could have had a chance. They deserved a chance, Derek whispered harshly into noise of the crowded restaurant.

The glass in Derek's hand slipped out of his grasp and burst into pieces as it smashed onto the tiled floor. For a moment he did not move. Only when the waitress came over to his table to ask him if he was alright did he realize that the glass had fallen to the ground. There was a trail of blood running down his thumb. He nodded briefly to show the concerned waitress that he was fine, left a couple of bills on the table and excused himself to flee into the cold winter dusk.

As Derek wandered through the streets of Manhattan he bumped into shoulders, was yelled at in more than one language he did not recognize and he nearly missed the street he had aimed for.

He took the steps two at a time, hastily knocked on the door and jumped from foot to foot in an attempt to calm his nerves.

As the door opened he looked into her eyes which appeared grayer than he remembered. She looked frail, her skin was pale like ashes, and her once vibrant red hair had taken on a hint of grey and was tied together in a knot on the back of her head. When Addison spoke, she did so in a quiet, fragile tone. She spoke slowly as if the forming of words was costing her too much energy she could not afford to lose in this battle she was fighting.

"Derek, what are you doing?"

He looked at her; saw the movement of her lips and all he really heard was something she had told him 18 hours ago.

"_It's cancer, Derek."_

"_What," Derek could barely hear himself utter these words over the long distance line. _

_-  
><em>A couple of months earlier

Addison sat waiting patiently to board her plane. It was an odd feeling after everything was said and done. She toyed with her phone and shuffled through her carry on trying to look important and busy but the truth was she was no such thing for the next two weeks.

Leaving her failed attempt at establishing a new life was probably the easiest choice Addison had made in the last three or so years. She did not take decisions like this lightly and after she weighed out the possible pros and cons she could not find a good enough reason not to leave the rainy hell hole that had destroyed whatever shred of dignity she had arrived with that long year ago. One horribly lengthy year fraught with choices that could have been made better and too many series of broken hearts to count left her standing a little shorter and a little less hopeful. She is at an all time low, even for her, and it is time for a change. Feeling as though it is her turn for something good to happen, after all she had endured lately; she boarded and took her seat rapidly. What she knew was that if something good could not happen to her then she would quickly settle for something happening at all and going back was the first step in being able to move forward.

This undoubtedly should have happened long before now. It had been neglected, put off, and avoided until the possibility was no longer in question. Now, which was about a week and a half before she needed to be in Santa Monica to start the new segment of her life, Addison must return to the house of ghosts. She thought about having movers come in and pack her stuff under the supervision of Savvy, her best friend, but ultimately decided that she was uncomfortable with strange men going through her personal belongings and throwing them into boxes. So she decided it would be best if she went and cleared out the house herself, backing up memories in many boxes, some stored somewhere in New York City and some making it to sunny California and the new life of Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery.

Addison swallowed hard as the blurring lights outside of her window began to slow and gravity forced her further into her seat. Instead of getting a hotel room so she would be able to not deal with the brownstone until tomorrow, Addison hopped into the first cab she could flag down and recited the address she knew by heart. She tried to remind herself that not all of the times within the façade of a house were bad but the good memories only made her feel worse as she sensed the threatening tears in the corner of her eyes.

When the cab came to a rest amidst the rest of the busy street outside her old home she seemed to be unable to breath. She gasped and tried valiantly to keep her composure until she could at least make it inside. The cab driver struggled with the luggage and growled as she handed him the cash before darting back inside and tearing off. She stood, mostly alone with the exception of the foot traffic teetering around her, staring up at the front door. The only memory that coursed through her was that of the night where her husband, correction ex-husband, threw her into the rain. Feeling utterly ridiculous and childish, she shook her head at no one in particular and forced her feet forward on the dry concrete.

She entered the house slowly half expecting and half hoping to be met by something other than the darkness that encased the room. After flicking on the lights Addison kicked off her heels, letting them fall against the wooden staircase, and left her coat draped over the banister. Taking slow deliberate steps so as not to disturb the museum she had just penetrated Addison made her way to the kitchen. The tears set in after about the third stride and she spent the remainder of the night crying at the old kitchen table. She let the carefully crafted guards fall to her knees and openly sobbed for all of the dreams she had lost in the last year.

Morning found her completely exhausted and sleeping with most of her body on the couch and the other portion hanging off in an awkward position. After trying to make it upstairs last night she hastily resigned to the fact that there was no way she was sleeping in their old bed. She had allotted for two days of packing to guarantee that she did not linger with photographs and mementos for too long. She did not want the memories that coursed through her body anymore, she wanted to neatly pack them into boxes, seal the top with clear tape, and throw them in the back of some closet that awaited her by the ocean. Standing she felt her back try to realign itself and her knees cracked from the sudden weight placed upon them. She made quick work of getting ready for the day and was certain that after last night's display that wearing any form of make up today would just be futile. She popped a Xanax to help quell the inner emotions and reasoned that having an anxiety attack with no one around to help her was the last thing she needs on her plate.

The autographed 1978 Yankees World Series Ball sat on the same shelf of the bookshelf which Addison had left it on after Derek tossed it aside the day after their ninth wedding anniversary. She got him the ball, as a token, because he used to be such a huge fan and he bought her roses that were delivered to her office twenty minutes after she had left for the day.

For their fifth wedding anniversary someone had managed to abide by the protocol and got them a wooden picture frame that held Addison's favorite picture of her old life. It was un-staged and they did not even know there was a camera near them as they melted into each other next to the roaring fireplace of his mother's house. It was their season; now it was a season that brought about a resounding feeling of guilt and regret. It went into the box next to the ball.

By the time her 35th birthday, which she strenuously refused to recognize, rolled around the gifts had become more lavish. She actually had wondered if her husband thought that the more money he spent on it the more it would mean to her. She stared back at the sculpture and debated tossing it against the wall just to watch it shatter. The irony would be too overwhelming so into the box it went.

His copy of The Sun Also Rises, her trashy novels, numerous medical journals, and old classics all get dumped into the next box. Most of the literature belonged to Derek who enjoyed a good strenuous read from time to time. She preferred to read for entertainment and stuck to "chick lit". She left the furniture, all of the electronics, and the appliances behind. Honestly she could not care less about what happened to them after she signed off on this place. It was not on the market yet (she wasn't ready to part ways) but she knew now that this had to be done. The past and all of its memories, good, bad, or indifferent needed to be put to rest.

She found herself stuck in the doorway, eyes locked on the place where the treachery took place. It was betrayal, through and through. It was a simple act that ended a life she was not living in anymore. She merely existed within the shell of a fantastic marriage and a man who did not care if she woke up the next morning or not. It was also something that she hated thinking about because she never anticipated being that woman. So she stepped inside, switched off her brain, and worked methodically through the room. Clothes still on their hangers and fresh with his scent get discarded into a box that she will send him and will promptly get thrown away. It stung a little, even now, that he still chose to disown everything from his former life. He did not want the clothes, the pictures, the books, the china, or the literature. What her once best friend wanted was a good dose of amnesia and to never have to mutter the name, "Addison" ever again.

She took her jewelry, sans wedding bands, and placed them into the next box. She adamantly declined to touch the bed and anything on it. It's a line, a boundary that she could not handle crossing yet. She collected another box of Derek's belongings to ship to Boston and secretly hoped that he would at least look inside before throwing it away and erasing every last part of her , his wife. Ex-wife.

Two whole days later, wrought with grief and riddled by her old life left her emotionally hung over as she watched people board the flight she had planned to escape New York with. Instead she exhaled the breath she had been holding since she had sat food on New York soil two days ago, turned around and started walking towards the exit of JFK. She was in dear need of a new bed so she could rest her sore muscles and catch up on the sleep she had been missing for months.

-  
>New York, present time<p>

"I came for you," Derek whispered as he stepped forward to embrace Addison in a tight hug. Her body was frail, her face the palest he had ever seen and her lips were cracked. Her breathing became rapidly heavier as she fought against the tears welling up in her eyes.

As she sobbed vehemently against his shoulder, Derek let his hands wander over her back in soothing circles as he repeated over and over again, "We'll get through this!"


	2. Don't You Remember

A/N: I'm very sorry that updating this story took so long. I was very sick for a long time, but I'm getting better now. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Be warned, though, that this chapter is a little darker at times.

If you're one of the few who know about the penguins…you'll have to be a little more patient.

Previously:

_New York, present time_

"_I came for you," Derek whispered as he stepped forward to embrace Addison in a tight hug. Her body was frail, her face the palest he had ever seen and her lips were cracked. Her breathing became rapidly heavier as she fought against the tears welling up in her eyes._

_As she sobbed vehemently against his shoulder, Derek let his hands wander over her back in soothing circles as he repeated over and over again, "We'll get through this!"_

**Don't You Remember**

New York, present time

Derek sat slumped on the couch in the living room, watching his knuckles turn a slight shade of pink while he rubbed them against each other in an attempt to calm his nerves. Absentmindedly he tapped his foot on the wooden floor boards in a rhythm matching Addison's distant clattering in the kitchen.

Derek looked around the living room, searching for remnants of their past, memories, that helped him feel at ease, at home even, less like a stranger in a house he had once called his. There was a photograph on a shelf to his left that held a moment between Addie, Savvy and Weiss captive. Next to it sat a vase that he vaguely remembered as a gift from Addison's great grandmother; an heirloom. He stood up and walked over to the fireplace. Derek lifted his right arm to the sill and let his fingers caress the one photograph of them he saw in the house. A photograph he remembered vividly, even if he could not for the life of him remember when and how it was taken. Derek thought about the day he last saw that specific photograph, sighed deeply and lost himself in the smiles a younger Derek and Addison shared with each other those long years ago.

Boston, a couple of months earlier

Derek stared at the scissors in front of him. He touched them; let his index and middle finger wander around its metal hem. As he finally picked it up, he sighed deeply and brought it to the small band holding the package in front of Derek a secret. Even though, he admitted silently to himself, the content was anything but a secret to him. The package held remnants of his old life; A life that he had ended almost two years ago. Ended by nothing more than two names scribbled on a piece of paper, witnessed by two overpriced lawyers and authorized by the state.

In the distance Derek heard Meredith rummaging through their new kitchen, unpacking boxes and filling cabinets with necessities.

"Derek," Meredith said questioningly, "What do you want for dinner?"

Derek did not hear her at first, only when she repeated the just said in a rather annoyed attempt to get his attention, did he lift his eyes from the package and looked at her slender figure in the threshold.

"What did you just say?" Derek said calmly and smiled crookedly at Meredith.

"What do you want for dinner," Meredith said and walked slowly over to where Derek sat in the middle of the couch. She sat down on his lap and put her arms around his shoulder, "I don't feel like cooking. We should order in, I think." She finished her proposition with a smile and a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I like that idea," Derek answered giving her a quick and honest smile in return.

"Chinese or pizza? I feel like both. What do you think?" Derek stopped listening to her as he spotted a photograph in a wooden frame in the left corner of the box. He stretched his arm and grabbed the object. He sighed deeply before he brought it closer to look at it properly. It was Addison and him, looking young and careless. But mostly the couple in the photograph looked in love. He let his fingers wander over the piece. Derek wondered when exactly they stopped being happy with each other and why it happened at all. It had been years since Derek had last seen Addison, his wife, the only one he had ever had. Ex-wife he corrected himself silently. Was she happy? Had she met someone, other than him, that had been able to give her what she needed? Part of him hoped she had and part of him still hated the idea of Addison with someone else, someone who was not him. Addison had been his first in many ways. She was the first woman he fell in love with and the first woman he brought home to introduce to his family. She was the first woman he told he loved her and meant it, other than his four sisters and his mother. She was the first woman he consciously did not answer every questions correctly in a test for in order to see her smile radiantly at being the best. He loved when she smiled like that. It made him happy. It made him content. She was the first woman he loved so much that she started inhibiting every aspect of his life. So when he asked her to marry him, he put it all out there in the cold to love and to cherish or to die in sadness. When she broke his heart, shattered it in a million different pieces he had to leave in order to collect the pieces strewn all over the place. Seattle was his breath of fresh air, his second chance to clean his palate and learn to love and to trust again.

Somewhere between New York and Seattle, 7 years ago

Derek had not had a smoke since he had been 15 years old and secretly smoked a cigarette with Mark in the woods near their childhood homes. They had both coughed their lungs out afterwards and blamed it on the cold they had both caught when asked by their respective parents.

21 years later, Derek sat on a bench outside of a gas station and inhaled the smoke, let it fill his lungs and breathed it out in the hope it would take his hurt and grief with it.

"Hey there, stranger." Derek looked up and saw a blonde twenty-something standing beside him. She smiled politely at him and gestured to the spot next to him on the bench. "What brings you to this lovely place?" Her hair was falling down a little over her shoulders. Her eyes were blue and she spotted a nice tan, even in this cold fall weather.

"A journey. What's your name?" Derek spoke softly before bringing the cigarette to his lips once more. The woman watched him do so, he noticed out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his head to look at her she lifted her right hand to take the cigarette out of his mouth. She held it in front of her, in between them, for a moment, watched him observe her moves and brought it to her own mouth.

"Claire," She exhaled in a puff of smoke. Her hair blew softly in the wind. Every once in a while Claire would lift her right hand to bring strands of stray her behind her ears. There was a dimple on her left cheek. "A journey, hu? Where to, stranger?" She said and gave him back his cigarette.

Derek watched her in amusement. There he was in the middle of nowhere somewhere halfway between New York and wherever this journey took him and this strange woman made him smile for the first time in months. He felt a wave of euphoria wash through him, a moment of optimism and faith.

"Anywhere. Don't you want to know my name?" Derek questioned as he took the cigarette from her delicate fingers.

She smiled mischievously at him, and shook her head lightly before she said in a laughing voice. "No. If I know your name I'll want to know more about you and it won't matter anyway. You'll fill up your car and you'll drive away to wherever it is you are driving. And I'll be stuck here with nothing but a memory and I'd rather keep it adventurous and vague. I'd rather dream up my very own story of who you are and where you are going."

"So, who am I and where am I going, strange lady," Derek asked in curiosity. He lifted the smoke to his lips once more before he gave it back to Claire.

"You are an artist, a painter. No, a writer. But not one of those crime authors. You write more elegantly and classy, deeper than most. You sit down at the typewriter, an old model, with a glass of brandy and a cigar. You think about every word and they way it fits exactly the thought it is supposed to convey. And when you type it's because you mean it. All of it. You are serious. But you're also sad. You have loved and been loved. Now you're on your way to Los Angeles. Your friends and family warned you not to go, but you want to. You want to try. You owe that to yourself. I also think.."

"Mr. Shepherd?" Derek turned his head to the voice that was calling out for him. "You're car is as good as new!" The man then turned to Claire and yelled, "Get back to work, Claire. I'm not paying you for talking!"

Claire let the cigarette fall to the ground, stomped on it and turned to head for the gas station. Derek grabbed her arm and before she could react he touched his lips to hers in a sweet, feather light kiss.

"Goodbye, stranger," Claire said softly and walked away. Derek watched her enter the gas station and disappear.

Derek brought his hands to his head and folded them on top of his black curls before he kicked a pebble a couple of meters away from him. He turned and walked towards his car when he heard a familiar voice call out to him once more.

"Mr. Shepherd," Claire said as she walked quickly towards him.

"Yes," Derek answered and smiled at her softly.

Claire stood in front of him, appearing a little nervous. She cradled something in her hands. Derek could not see properly what it was. She lifted her eyes from the object in her hands to look at Derek.

"Take this," Clair said and gave him the book she had been holding tightly between her hands. Derek took it and looked at it questioningly.

"Thank you." Derek smiled softly at her without inspecting the book any further. He felt the urge to tell her how thankful he really was, that she made him see things clearer and more in perspective than he had before, but the words failed him. And all that was left was a simple _thank you._

"Safe travel, stranger!" Claire sad with one last tender smile and a hint of sadness in her voice. As she turned around to walk back into the gas station, Derek looked down at the book once more and quietly read its title.

_The Sun Also Rises – Ernest Hemingway_

As he drove away, leaving behind this small country town in western Kansas, he concluded the events of the day with a simple sentence. Brutal, emotional and mostly honest.

"No matter how many women I'll kiss I'll stay a man of only one wife, therefore I am doomed."

New York, present time

"Derek," he heard her soft calling of his name and reluctantly averted his eyes from the photograph in front of him.

"It's a nice photo," Addison whispered merely audible into the quietness of the room.

Derek looked at the coffee table. It was all set with tea, cups and even biscuits. He wondered just how long Addison must have watched him reminisce over old memories, lost in the past. Everything she did nowadays was careful and slow. She felt exhausted all the time and it showed. Addison looked frail from the constant treatment and the toxins which were pumped into her body.

"I used to remember when it was taken. But lately," Addison paused, swallowed a set of tears and continued insecurely, "I just can't remember anything anymore."

A stranger would have taken her reluctance to share for resignation, but Derek knew better. At least he used to. Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery was angry. At whom? She was angry that she had to go through this tormenting treatment; she was angry at herself for not fighting the disease better; also she was angry at him for not being hers to rely on support for. Addison was angry at too many individual circumstances to specify her anger at something in particular and that she was the most angry about. Being angry at something in particular was something Addison knew how to deal with. This was just too universal for her to fight against.

"Do you?" Addison knew it was a long shot but she dared it anyway, "Do you remember?"

Derek sighed and shook his head, "I'm sorry."

_I let her down, again._

New York, 8 years ago

"Addison," He stretched out the syllables of her name in a way that let his annoyance bluntly show and it only made her more furious with him. "I said I was sorry, okay."

Derek was exhausted and in need of a shower, food and a bed to rest his head after pulling a double shift at the hospital for the fifth time in the last two weeks. Arguing with his rage-filled wife was not on the list of things he wanted to right now. And it showed.

"You said that. But you've said it so many times. So are you, Derek, or is it just the most convenient for you to say." Her voice fierce, her posture stern with her arms up in the air gesturing wildly. She was on a mission to hurt him back in the way he had hurt her by standing her up one too many times.

"Addison. I just….can't talk to you when you're like this," he said pointing at her gesturing hands and stern look. He turned around and grabbed his coat from the rag.

"Don't you dare walk out on me now, Derek Christopher Shepherd!"

Derek did not reply anything, just leaned forward to grab the door know as suddenly something ceramic burst into pieces right next to his head. Addison had thrown a vase at the wall next to the door. For a few moments Derek stood still, unbelieving of the situation. When he turned around, he walked over to where Addison stood in quick strides, grabbed her arms and walked her backwards against the wall. He held her wrists pressed against the stark white of the wall, so Addison was firmly held against him and the wall.

"Let go of me, Derek," Addison demanded harshly, trying to free herself from his grip, "You're hurting me!"

"You just threw a fucking vase at my head. What was that supposed to do? Caress me?" Derek replied angrily.

"I didn't throw it at your head!"

"It was close enough to get the point across, Addison," his annoyance at her demeanor shown through like summer sun on a cloudless day.

"Derek, let go," Addison cried out.

"Only if you calm down!" When he saw the rising fear in her eyes, he let go of her wrists and stepped back a few inches to give her more space to breath.

As soon as he had taken back a few steps a hand connected with his cheek, leaving a gash where her rings had come in contact with his skin. For the second time that they Derek Shepherd stood dumbfounded in his own houses staring blankly at his wife of nine years.

"You bitch," he exclaimed unconsciously, bringing his hand to the bleeding wound. Instead of grabbing her once more, he pushed his body forward, pressing her into the wall with his own bodyweight. His lips almost instantly met with hers and a fierce kiss. His hands quickly unbuttoned her blouse before they found the zipper of her skirt.

While their tongues were still occupied in the fight of power and superiority, Derek´s right thumb brushed over Addison´s left nipple and caused her to groan, stop the tongue war and bite down on his lower lip with as much force as she could muster in her current situation and earned a low moan in return. Therefore Derek abandoned Addison´s breasts and placed his hands on either side of her hips, pushing her up and even more into the wall before kissing her again. Addison put her hands on the back of his head, massaging it shortly, before letting them wander down his neck, into his sweater and as far down as was possible from her angel, all the while leaving marks with her nails in his neck and back. Having reached the limit of possible access to his back, Addison broke the kiss once again.

Their eyes locked, staring into each other´s eyes intensely. Desire. Disdain. Need. Desperation. Derek closed the distance, pushing Addison against the wall once more and hovering his lips over hers. His hands moved up her back to unhook her bra. As soon as he felt the garment loosening around her shoulders he closed the remaining distance between their lips and kissed her. Forcefully and demanding.

As they came down from their individual highs moments later, Derek slid them both to the ground. They sat next to each other, leaning against the wall and filling the air with nothing but silence that even their breaths seemed to disrupt.

Derek closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes he saw Addison's back turned to him, hiding her naked front from him. Her breathing was uneven und he heard her sniffling back tears that demanded to be set free. He lifted his hand to touch her neck but before he came in contact, Addison said in a harsh, angry voice, "Don't touch me!"

Addison grabbed her blouse and put it on. Then she got up and turned to Derek. There she stood in nothing but a blouse and red pair of lace panties. Her hair was falling down her shoulder in soft curls and her eyes shone in a piercing green. Derek would have laughed at this scenario they currently found themselves in, had it not been for Addison's words, it could have been a story they told their grand children at some time in the future.

"I want you to move out."

She looked at him sternly when he did not react; she could no longer hold back the tears. She let herself slide to the ground as she wept vehemently. It only took Derek a second to register. His arms instantly found his way around her torso, bringing her close to his chest and rubbing her back in soothing circles.

His father had once told him, always treat those you care for the most, with the best intentions so that when you hurt them you do not hate yourself and instead help those you hurt get through everything together rather than walking away with guilt.

As Addison cried in his embrace there was only thought plaguing his mind.

I let her down.


End file.
